Sunshine and Snow
by FazzyGrl.22
Summary: 30 Day OTP challenge for Russia/Monaco!
1. Holding Hands

**A/N: **This is the beginning of a 30-day OTP challenge that I wanted to do over on Tumblr. It was originally for drawing, but since I can't draw, I decided to write one-shots. The couple is a pairing that I thought of a while back (and that I find utterly adorable), RussiaxMonaco.

* * *

I. Holding Hands

The room was dark, lit only by wax candles scattered here and there. They gave off little light and cast long shadows about the room. There in the midst, was a desk and huddled up in a large chair behind this desk, sat what appeared to be a young man. He looked to only be about twenty-three or twenty-four, at least, in the eyes of people like you or me. He was clad in a long beige coat that traveled down below his knees and only exposed his great black boots. A long scarf, its pinkish color faded from weather and time, was wrapped several times around his neck. His pale, almost white, blonde head hung down and he sat there motionless.

He looked cold, and he was. No fire was lit on the hearth, and the room was so drafty, only a large fire would have warmed it up completely. He made no moves to light a fire, though. He just continued to sit in his chair, as if frozen in place. Perhaps he was, for at his side, invisible to the untrained eye, there was an older man looming over him. The man had his large, gloved hand resting on this younger man's shoulder. The older man looked as if he had stepped out of a history book, for he wore an old uniform and hat that Russian soldiers had not worn for a long while now. A great cape hung from his shoulders and covered this young man like a large shadow.

As the young man continued to sit frozen in place with his head bowed, the ghostly figure bent down to whisper in his ear,

_There is no use in fighting me. You need me just as much as you need air. Who else has kept you thriving over the years? Who taught you and showed you how to survive? Was I not correct in what I told you about these past wars? Now you are greater than ever._

The young man stirred. A low, faint sound came from him, as if he spoke. But it was so quiet that only the spectre could hear him, and he did. He laughed at what the young man said.

_So what if they all fear you? To be feared is better than to be loved! You cannot trust someone you love. Love deceives and plays with your senses! If people fear you, though, they will think twice about deceiving you. Everything is fine just the way it is. And you do have your sisters. Have they not always supported you? You have those lackeys as well. They fear you, and would be afraid to turn on you. Don't underestimate the power of fear. Have you not always feared me? _

The young man nodded and the spectre's grip tightened on his victim's shoulder.

_Your fear of me causes you to obey, and your obedience is rewarded. Now, my son, _

The other hand rested upon the young man's chest, above his heart. The hand squeezed. Blood oozed through the material of his coat. The young man winced.

_Do not try to desert me again. I wouldn't want to cause you more pain than you've already experienced for the past several years._

The pressure on his chest was gone and the spectre's presence had vanished. The young man sat in his chair, trembling. He knew his chest was bleeding, but he could not feel any pain. Not anymore. The words of the ghostly visitor haunted him and dark images of his past began flashing before his eyes. He saw the blood run, the horrified faces of those innocents he killed, the bodies of many comrades that had fallen… and the shaking grew worse.

He hated it. All of it, the cold, the dark, the death, and most of all, he hated that spectre who had posed as a general of the army back when the young man was nothing more than a mere boy. It wasn't long, however, before he realized that this being was no mortal man. By that time, it was too late, and he was stuck with his ghostly companion. He had tried several times to be rid of the creature, but every time only brought pain and the realization that he needed the ghost. He could not handle all of this death and darkness and the pressure of being such a large country on his own. He hated himself for being so pathetic, but he knew there was nothing he could do.

He was so wrapped up in his dark thoughts that he didn't hear the sound of a small hand knocking on his door; soon the knocking lead to the sound of the door creaking open, just a tad bit. Had he been more aware of his surroundings, he would have heard a soft voice utter his name.

"Ivan?"

A young woman peered at the room she had entered and shuddered, running her hands up and down her arms. As Ivan continued to sit frozen in his chair, she scurried over to the fireplace and stared helplessly at the empty place where the fire was supposed to be. If only she knew how to light a fire! She saw a tassel hanging nearby and tugged on it. As she hoped, it brought in a servant and she ordered that there be a fire set in the study at once. The man complied and soon, a warm fire spread its glow about the room and the place wasn't half as drafty as it was accustomed to be.

Ivan noticed this. He came out of his dark reverie and spotted the fire. He marveled at it, as well as the warmth that it gave. With slow movements he stood and walked over to the hearth, holding his hands out and relishing the heat that radiated onto them. He rubbed his hands together and smiled. It was amazing what one fire in a once-cold room could do for one's spirits!

He heard the door shut behind him and turned to see … her. The firelight danced in the reflection of her spectacles and she walked up to him slowly. His eyes never left her face. That dear face… it had become so precious to him, though he was too bashful to admit it. Yes, even he, Ivan Braginski, who stood for the big, strong, seemingly emotionless country of Russia, experienced bouts of shyness now and then, especially when it came to his newer acquaintance and friend. She was just so… different than all of the cold and the ice and the snow. She was warm, and bright. While he would not call her carefree, she was definitely pleasant to be around, and even though she was not used to hardship like he was, she was always willing to do something to help.

She also did not suffer from shyness, unlike him. He figured it was because of that mixture of French and Italian that she had in her blood. Out of all the countries that Ivan was acquainted with, it seemed that she was one of the select few (who weren't related to him) that did not despise or fear him. What surprised him even further was that she was so small a country – a micro-nation, really. Her head barely reached the middle of his torso! And yet here she was, standing next to him, her blue eyes full of concern. Ivan couldn't understand it, nor did he care to at the moment.

She noticed the pallor in his cheeks and even the blood stain on his coat, but she did not voice her concern. By the look on his face, she knew that he would only shrug her worries away and tell her that he was fine. No, there would be time for such talk later. Right now, she merely reached up and took hold of his big, calloused hands. Her soft thumbs gently caressed his knuckles.

"Your hands are cold," she murmured.

He held both of her small hands in his and brought them up to his chest. A small, thankful smile was on his face.

"They will be warm again soon."


	2. Cuddling

II. Cuddling

Sophie Cardea shifted her purse strap from one shoulder to another while sighing. The city around her was bright and cheerful, as it usually was, but she was far from being the same. For one thing, she had gone through two long nights of having to deal with problems in her famous casinos. Add that to having to deal with her overbearing guardian Francis this morning, and that left her longing for only one thing: sleep. She passed by a café with many people sitting outside drinking, talking and just enjoying the view of the ocean below them. She paid the happy people little notice. Right now, her only mission in life was to get back to her snug apartment, fall down on her bed and sleep for hours. Suddenly, she heard the sound of her ringtone going off. After a minute of scrounging around in her purse, she found her phone and saw that she had a text message from…

"Ivan?" she exclaimed.

_I see you! _The text read.

_Where are you? _She texted back, eyes widening.

_Look to your right._

She turned and saw that outside the very café she had so absently noticed a moment ago, there was a man sitting alone at one of the tables who looked eerily similar to the Russian nation that she had seen so little of in the past several years.

She couldn't mistake that long scarf, though. Sure enough, it was Ivan Braginski, sitting at a little table that looked too small to house his long legs, sipping a mug of something and just cheekily grinning at her. He held his phone up in front of his face and she figured that he was taking a photo of her to commemorate this memorable occasion of catching her off guard.

Annoyed, and quite flummoxed, she marched over to his table and peered straight into his face. Being as tall as he was, she stared at him at a level height.

"Is it really you?" she exclaimed.

He laughed. "Privyet, Sophie! Or should I say Ms. Cardea? Which is proper?"

"_Proper?_ I'll give you proper you… you overgrown, vodka snarfing…" she began whacking him with her purse in quite an undignified manner.

"…You tank driving, snow sniffing, sister loving, scarf wearing… _Russian!"_

"Ack! Sophie! _Ostanovitʹ, pozhaluysta! _People arebeginning to stare! _Sophie!"_

He caught her hand and she froze, while darting her eyes back and forth. To her dismay, people _were _staring.

"Not that I care, you know," she heard him say, "but I figure you wouldn't want people to see you make the fool out of yourself."

He was excruciatingly right. She straightened herself up, as well as her dignity and frowned at him.

"You know this is quite unexpected," she said quietly.

"Da. And I knew you would be upset. Here, sit. Please?"

He gestured toward the chair across from him.

She heaved an exasperated sigh and sat down. At least she was off her feet. Suddenly, she felt tired. It seems that beating him over the head with her purse took some strength out of her.

"You would like to order something, perhaps?" she heard him ask.

"A latte would be nice," she murmured.

"All right." He called a waiter over to the table and she tiredly ordered what drink she wanted. Once the man was gone, she felt a large hand rest over hers. She looked up into Ivan's smiling face and couldn't help but give a small smile back.

"So what brings you here?"

"Business mixed with pleasure. My boss has become quite good friends with yours."

"Umm," she answered. Ivan studied her. It was quite unlike her to reply in such a detached way.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm fine," she waved his concern away. "I am just unbearably tired."

The waiter returned with her coffee and she immediately began to drink it.

"Long night, I suppose?"

She winced. She had taken such a rash drink of the stuff that she had burnt her tongue a little.

"Plus having to deal with 'big brother France' this morning."

It was Ivan's turn to wince. "Aiye, that would not be pleasant. Especially in your case…"

She hummed in agreement and removed her glasses wearily. Taking another sip (more cautiously this time, mind you), she looked out to the ocean.

"But now I am free and I am going back home to sleep."

Sophie heard him chuckle. "What?" she demanded.

The corners of his eyes crinkled from laughter. "You… you've got some…" He gestured to the area below his nose.

She was so tired that she didn't understand. "What?"

"Some… Oh, never mind. Hold still."

With his thumb he gently wiped away some froth that was resting above her lips. Blinking in surprise, she grabbed a napkin and shooed his hand away.

"Oh! Oh my… I…" Her face flushed. Even after all these years of being apart, his touch still had that kind of effect on her.

Her napkin lowered as their eyes met. She saw the violet of his eyes darken and her stomach fluttered. Tension sparked between them and she leaned across the table to get closer to him. He did the same and he took her hand in his again.

"I have missed you, _malyutka,_" he said quietly.

She smiled. "And I have missed you, _mon grand." _

That nickname she had decided to use for him had always amused Ivan and he stroked her cheek. His hand strayed to the long strands of her bangs and he twirled the hair in his fingers. He was going to lean in for a kiss, but in that moment she yawned.

"Oh, excuse me," she said sheepishly. "I suppose the latte isn't helping."

His laughter warmed her heart as he pulled out some Euros from his wallet and placed them inside a card holder that the waiter had left for when he wanted to pay for his drink.

"I will pay for you, Sophie." He rose and held his hand out for her to take.

"You didn't have to do that…"

"It is no trouble," Ivan gently squeezed her hand as the two of them left the café's sitting area and headed down the sidewalk. Hand in hand, they made their way past various buildings, hotels, and the docks where yachts were tied up, lazily floating on the water, waiting to be used. They were leisurely walking along, but even so, Sophie found herself yawning with each step. The walk from the casino to her apartment usually was a nice brisk walk for her. She got good exercise from it, but not today. Today the walk left her wishing she would consider driving a car like normal people. Then she realized she was probably being nothing but a bore to the man she was holding hands with, and that was the last thing she wanted to be!

_Stop it! _She chided herself. _Now is not the time to be sleepy. Ivan's here – with me! When was the last time we were able to spend time together here?_

"You know," she suddenly said, "We could take a walk around, if you'd like. I could show you how things have changed since you've last been here. Ever since Rainier married Princess Grace, things have been… Hey!"

Ivan had swept her up into his arms and continued walking despite her objections.

"What are you doing? Did I say you could pick me up?" she exclaimed, though inwardly, she relished the feel of his strong arms carrying her.

He blandly looked at her. "You were lagging behind and dragging your feet. Just how long have you been without sleep, little one?"

"Ugh, I like it better when you call me that in Russian," she scoffed. At his pointed stare, she grudgingly answered his question. "A little more than forty-eight hours."

"I see. You could do for a nap, I think," he said.

She wasn't going to make things easy. "But, it's been forever since we have been able to spend some time together. I thought we could…"

"I know, and we will. I'm a little - as they put it - jet-lagged myself, so I wouldn't mind a nap. We can go out later."

Sophie decided to let him have his way. After all, she really could do with a nap. As she rested her head against his shoulder, she studied his profile. Many probably wouldn't call Ivan handsome, per se, not like Francis with his statuesque-like beauty or even like Antonio, with his Latino looks, but she had always been fascinated by Ivan; by Russia. His tall frame that usually intimidated others had left her curious when she first saw him, and she had quickly discovered that even though he was bulky, none of what was underneath his clothing was soft. Years of hardships and fighting had left him strong and powerful. Whenever he carried her as he was doing now, she felt safer than she ever felt when France, Spain or even Ancient Rome himself had promised to protect her.

"You're wearing jeans," she said quietly as they neared her apartment building.

She heard his low chuckle. "Da. Believe it or not, we did import denim."

"They look nice," she said unashamedly. She pleasantly noticed that a slight blush was on his cheeks.

"_Spasibo. _Ah, this is the apartment, right?" He was embarrassed. How cute.

"Mm hmm."

He had to put her down so she could unlock the door. Ivan studied the building as Sophie fished through her purse to find her keys. It was a nice structure, made of red bricks which had an air of simple elegance to it. Though she lived in the city, the building was not located right in the midst of all its bustle and noise. Sophie opened the door and the two of them ascended a carpeted staircase up to the third floor. The interior of the building had its own elegance to it, but Ivan figured it wasn't as showy as other apartments in the city limits. Monaco did have a reputation for being overtly elegant for the wealthy crowd.

When they entered her apartment, he wasn't surprised to find that it was just as lovely and chic as its owner. But there was simplicity to it as well. Sophie was not one for putting on airs. Even though she had two loud Italians for brothers as well as a Frenchman for a guardian who was known for his ostentatious tastes, her own tastes could be considered a bit toned down. The floor was nicely carpeted, she had smart looking furniture, and plenty of electronic devices, but there was also a hint of the old world here and there that he knew she was nostalgic about. A miniature globe that looked like one of the first Grimaldis would have owned sat on her wide windowsill. The throw blanket draped over the sofa and the cushions were made of comfortable textures. The wall border had a medieval pattern that matched the soft color of the wall paint and there were paintings from the Renaissance period hanging here and there. Sophie's apartment was a mixture of old and new; medieval and modern.

"Very nice," he said honestly. If it had been earlier, back in the past when the two of them had separated, he would have sneered at such an apartment. Even though Sophie had never been one to flaunt about the wealth of her or her people, she and her country had stood for all of what Russia had despised back in those days. Lavish wealth, wasteful spending of money and a monarchy with an established religion had been abhorred by many; he included. Time had changed, however, and he now admired how lovely the small republic had become.

Speaking of which, Sophie had returned from a bedroom down the hall, now dressed in sweatpants and a white tank top. She still had her glasses on but her hair had been let down and pulled into a loose ponytail. She looked tired, yet adorable, Ivan thought.

"You don't have to just stand there. Make your self at home," she said sweetly. "Come on, take off your shoes and sit down. Would you like a drink?"

"Water would be fine. It's a little too early for vodka," he winked as he placed his shoes by the door.

She smirked as she opened the fridge. Ivan turned to go and sit in the living room.

The couch was quite comfortable. He noticed that she had a shelf of books from French, English, American, and Spanish authors and was surprised to see that there were even some Russian authors scattered here and there.

"Tolstoy, hmm? You have interesting taste in literature," he said as she entered the living room. She handed him a bottle of water and sat beside him, immediately resting her head against his shoulder.

"Well, of course. I like to be well-rounded in what I read," she murmured.

"So what have you read from that shelf?"

She scrubbed her eyes and peered at the rows of books. "Umm... _War and Peace, Don Quixote, Tartuffe… _among other things. I can' remember… what else…" Her words were stifled by a yawn.

Ivan put his water bottle down on her coffee table and turned to Sophie. Her eyes were getting heavier by the second. Smiling, he slowly rose from the couch to go and draw the blinds and pull the curtains together. When the room was dark enough for his liking, he sat back down and found Sophie half asleep with her head resting against the back of the couch. He took the water from her hands, removed her glasses gently from her face and pulled her into his arms.

"Hmm?" she murmured. "Are you gonna stay with me?"

He lay back on the couch and stroked her hair. "Of course, dearest."

"Oh good…" she said as she snuggled into his chest. "I was hoping… You're comfy…"

He took the throw that draped over the side of the couch and covered the two of them. Now that they were warm and comfortable together, sleep began to slowly overtake them. Before they both dropped off, however, Ivan heard Sophie mutter his name.

"What?"

"I'm happy." She raised her head to give him a gentle kiss. "So happy that you're here."

He framed her face in his hands before kissing her back just as gently.

"I too am happy, little one," he said, and he meant it. "Now go to sleep."

She gave him a sweet, contented smile and nestled against his chest again. Though she was basically lying on top of him, her small body hardly weighed anything and he wrapped his arms around her, cuddling her closer to him. It had been forever since they had been able to do this, and Ivan had missed it. Big, strong, cold country that he appeared to be, no one would have thought that he enjoyed cuddling like this, but he did. It was one of his weaknesses, and Sophie knew it. She liked to cuddle, though he was usually the one to instigate it. When she was tired or emotional though, she would always be obliging.

Before she did drop off, Sophie's last thought was that she had missed this herself. Pretty soon they both were sound asleep.


	3. Watching a Movie

**A/N**: Thanks for the sudden reviews I got! Yeah... I've been neglecting this little flick haven't I? Don't worry. I don't want to abandon it... as of yet... XDD

To the commentator who asked if I would write anything for ItaLiech, I actually have a story for them in the making. But I don't know when it'll be posted... just wanted to let you know. ;)

This chapter owes a lot to the film _The Virgin Spring. _It's a good movie. WATCH IT. (warning, it is sad and a bit controversial.)

* * *

III. Watching movie/playing game

Ivan stared down at the message box on his phone and was pleasantly surprised to see that someone had responded to a text he had sent to several of his acquaintances:

_I'm thinking of watching a movie tonight, but I want to watch something different. Any suggestions?_

He hadn't thought that a lot of people would answer him. After all, even though he wasn't fighting with anyone any more, there were still those who avoided him. Truthfully, he really only used the numbers of his sisters, the Nordic brothers, as well as China and his siblings, and of course, Sophie whom he was dating. Not many other countries responded to his messages, which saddened him a little. He would have liked to have more people to talk to, even if it was over the phone.

So, imagine his surprise when the person who answered his message first was Berwald from Sweden.

_We have a film over in Sweden that you might be interested in. It is called The Virgin Spring._

The title caught Ivan's interest.

_Thank you, Berwald. I will look that up._

It wasn't hard to find the movie. Apparently, it had gained critical praise all over the world, which piqued Ivan's interest even further. Once he had rented the film and brought it back home, he resumed his work and waited until evening to watch it.

"Good evening, Ivan!"

The Russian had a genuine smile on his face at the sight of his guest. Sophie had let herself in, which was fine with him, and knew she would find Ivan in his office. She entered, bearing a covered dish of some food she had cooked for them. Tonight was a special night. They had prepared to have dinner together, sharing some of their cultural dishes followed by relaxing in the living room and watching a movie.

"Ah, Sophie. Good evening. If you would give me one minute, I will finish my business. Then I'll be… as they say, free for the evening!"

She nodded, giving him a bright smile. "I'll just set this dish in the kitchen. Is that all right?"

"Yes, fine. Thank you."

As he wrote the final sentences and completed the last parts of his work, he could hear Sophie rummage about in his kitchen nearby. Suddenly, Sophie popped her head around the doorframe.

"What did you make? I'm curious!" she asked.

He set his pen down and glanced once more at his paperwork. Seeing that everything seemed to be in order, he took out a long, yellow envelope and placed the papers inside it. After the envelope was placed in a desk drawer, he faced her.

"I made something a little light. It is called _shashlyk." _

"Hmm! Come show me what it looks like!"

He chuckled. "Are you hungry, little one?"

"Famished!" she admitted. "And making my dish was no easy feat, believe me!"

The two of them headed into the kitchen together.

"I swear if it wasn't for the fact that you haven't tried it, I would have eaten all of the Barbagiuan myself!"

"Is that what you brought?"

"Yes." Sophie went over to the kitchen counter and removed the cover of the heated dish. Ivan saw some triangle-shaped pastries inside that were pretty sizeable. It would still be pretty easy to eat several before getting full, however.

"Those look good," he said.

"Inside is a mixture of rice, cheese, leeks and spinach. Oh dear," she suddenly said. "I'm getting very hungry indeed!"

"Well, not to worry!" Ivan patted her on the shoulder before heading over to the fridge. He pulled out a platter that had meat and onions skewered on sticks.

"Oh!" Sophie exclaimed. "It's like a shish kabob!"

"I guess you could say that, but we call it shashlyk. If you will get everything ready, I will grill these at once."

"Hurry up!" she teased. He poked her side playfully and hurried out to the backyard before she could reprimand him. She could see him grinning all the way.

With a smile of her own, she retrieved some plates, a couple of glasses and some eating utensils. There was a small bar in the living room where she knew he would have his vodka stored. She hoped he would also have some wine, for she wasn't too fond of the taste of the stronger beverage. She filled his glass with some ice and proceeded to fill their plates with her barbagiuan.

Ivan came back inside shortly with the now-cooked meat and onions. The smell made her stomach growl and she eyed the plate hungrily.

"Hold on, now," he joked, noticing her expression. "Let us be sure you don't eat me and the plate along with the food!"

"Very funny," she muttered. "I put ice in your glass. Did you want your vodka on the rocks?"

He nodded while putting the meat on their plates. "Sure. That is fine. I also have some red wine for you. I figured you'd want some."

"Thank you, Ivan," she squeezed his arm before retrieving the desired beverages. A warm smile was on her face. She had been thinking about bringing a bottle, but had forgotten at the last minute, and then Ivan had gone ahead and bought a bottle for her. It wasn't that big of a deal, but she appreciated his thoughtfulness all the same.

The food was ready, the drinks were poured, and the two of them shared the meal together in pleasant camaraderie. She enjoyed the shashlyk and he praised her barbagiuan.

"I found a movie we can watch," he said in between bites. "Sweden actually recommended it."

"Oh!" Sophie took a sip of wine before asking, "What is it?"

"A Swedish film called _The Virgin Spring. _It seems interesting."

Sophie nodded. "Yes it does."

They were snuggled close on the sofa with cups of warm tea on the coffee table in front of them. As the movie began, Sophie snuggled into Ivan's chest.

"I see it's in black and white," she commented.

"I think it was made in sixties," he answered.

She nodded. "Makes sense."

The film progressed pretty smoothly, showing the daily life of a medieval family in Sweden. Both of them found it interesting enough, only commenting every now and then. But then the film's conflict began and the two of them were soon rather shocked as to how the film changed from pleasant to unnerving.

"I… I wasn't expecting that…" Sophie said in a hushed voice, with wide-eyes.

"Indeed…" Ivan remarked. He didn't seem as astounded as Sophie was, but he was still a bit surprised.

When the film's climax came into place, both of them were fully engaged in the film.

"He's going to kill them… You just watch…" she muttered.

Ivan nodded.

When the film came to its emotional end, Ivan turned it off and the two of them just sat there on the sofa.

"I can honestly say that the film turned out to be different than I expected when I rented it," Ivan said after a minute.

"It was so sad…" Sophie remarked.

"I am sorry, Sophie," Ivan said. "Had I known what it was really about, I probably wouldn't have…"

"No, no, Ivan. It's all right. I didn't say I disliked it!" Sophie interjected. "It was just a … very moving film."

"Well…" Ivan sighed. "I suppose I should clean up now…"

"I'll help you!" Sophie stood up with him. "I don't want to leave just yet."

He took her hand and they headed back into the kitchen to tidy up the dishes. As Sophie rinsed and Ivan put the dishes in the dishwasher, Sophie spoke up.

"So, if that had been your daughter, would you have done the same thing the father did?"

Ivan nodded. "Yes. Although I have to admit, the father was a bit merciful. I would have probably given them a slow, painful death."

Sophie looked at him and saw that his face was a bit grim. Most other countries would have been alarmed at this, but she knew his serious attitude wasn't focused on her. She wasn't frightened.

"I suppose I am a bit harsh, aren't I?" he said, looking at her.

She shrugged. "I can't say I blame you or the father… Would you have killed the boy as well?"

He paused a moment. "I do not know. I would have to think about that…"

She hummed in understanding. "I would have probably acted the same way the parents did. Though I don't know if I would kill the boy…" she said quietly. "The half-sister annoyed the living daylights out of me, though!" she exclaimed angrily.

Ivan chuckled. "Well, she seemed guilty enough. She will have to live with that for the rest of her life."

"True. Though I have to admit, if she had not been pregnant, I would have wished for her death over the boy's…"

Ivan finished putting the dishes in the dishwasher and wrapped his arms around Sophie's waist.

"You can be quite cold, you know, Sophie," he teased. "And people say _I _am scary!"

She laughed, drying her hands on a towel.

"It's a good thing that this kind of thing won't happen to me, then!" She looked up at him. "Can you imagine _us _in that situation?"

He just shook his head. "I don't want to. We would both be very scary, I think!"

He nuzzled the top of her head and she sighed happily. It had been quite an interesting movie that would send both of them to thinking about morality and life itself, but at the moment, the only thing they thought about was each other and how nice the evening was turning out to be, serious movies and all.


End file.
